As The World Falls Down
by BecauseSheCan
Summary: How did Esme go from the sixteen year old that fell out of the tree to the wife of our dear Dr.Cullen? I don't know, lets find out. Canon.
1. Chapter 1

**_Hi. _**

**_This is going to be Esme's story as strict to canon as I can be. From the first time she met Dr. Cullen till well, I can't tell you that right now. Each chapters will be short anywhere from 300 words to 2000 at the very most. _**

**_However, that being said this story will include all the horrors of her life. There will be abuse, mentions of rape, and child loss. If you have any issues with any of these topics there are plenty of other amazings stories out there. Hope you enjoy I will see you at the end. _**

**_- Rachel_**

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Chapter 1

His touch is like fire.

It caresses, whispers, devours while he strokes me gently.

Nonsensical, life sustaining and life destroying.

"What was a pretty girl like you doing up in that tree?" He asks as he leans closer; a bit more than my mama would deem appropriate.

"Charlie said there was a house on fire a mile up the road."

"And you like to watch fire?" His finger touches the hem of my dress and my stomach does a weird twist that kind of feels nice and wrong at the same time. My throat goes dry and I just nod a little. There's something about his eyes. "What do you like about it?"

"It dances. It moves back and forth and just looks so pretty, but really it's just eating everything up." I think my answer pleases him because he smiles, a little like the way daddy does when I make mama mad with my mouthing off. Then the smile is gone and he pulls back to look at his chart.

"Your cast needs to stay on for six to eight weeks. Come back in six weeks and we'll see how it goes. Don't go climbing up any trees till then." He smiles again. This time it's a bit wider that doesn't quite reach his eyes; it's a fake smile. At that second I realize he's a liar and if there is anything I hate it's a liar.

"Thank you doctor." I say the uppity way mama does when she's trying to tell off Mrs. Cole, but it kind of comes out scratchy like a cough. My face turns red and I run as fast as I can with the stupid crutches out to the waiting room where Dad I left dad after I made a big deal about being sixteen and not needing him to go inside with me.

Dr. Cullen follows me out and stops to talk to my dad. He has on that fake smile again. I try not to hear what they are saying, but I pick up on it and I get mad as I realize they are laughing at me and my 'gusto' for climbing that tree just to look at a stupid fire. Tears prick at my eyes and I say nasty things to him in my head because a few seconds ago he wasn't laughing at me. A few seconds ago he was looking at me in the way Mary talks about Jimmy looking at her before they kiss. I wasn't such a stupid kid then, huh.

"Well thanks doctor. I guess my wife wasn't being fussy when she sent me all the way up here for a fall." Dad says to him and Dr. Cullen just laughs. I can feel his eyes on me.

"No need to thank me sir. Esme here has been a great patient. It was a pleasure to treat her." He says the word pleasure funny and I make a noise in my throat that was suppose to mock him but ends up something different and my face flushes for the third time that night.

"I'd best be going Doc, sounds like she's in pain. Six weeks you say?"

"Yes, six weeks. I look forward to seeing you again Esme."

I kind of nod, and hope that they take my refusal to move as a sign of pain. Luckily they do, and soon my dad and I are on the road out of Columbus and back to a world where there isn't any funny looks or stupid tummy feelings.

_I never saw him again. Six weeks later when I went to the hospital he wasn't there and a proper doctor with gray hair sawed my cast off me._

_The whole time I was there I felt his touch. Saw his fingers playing with my hem. I never did get those eyes out of my mind. He was already there like a maggot inside my mind. Eating away any chance I had of a normal life, burrowing holes for him to live in. I was already preparing myself to be his bride, to be married to death while I was still so fully alive._


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

He was always sticky. When we were kids he was sticky with juices from the fruits we would pick off the trees. But I was always sticky too so that was okay. Then he was sticky with sweat from running around during the little free time we had. But then I was still sticky with him. Right now his hands are sticky and his forehead is sweating and this time it is not okay because I am not sticky with him. He went and made this mess all by himself and I don't want to be sticky with him.

He's just Charlie, and I do not want to be stuck with sticky Charlie for the rest of my life. Mama and Dad think I should. I know he's talked to them first and that makes me mad all on its own. He never really asked me, nobody really asks me anything anymore. I don't really know if anyone ever has.

Still, he is before me one knee bent down on the floor and I know what I am supposed to say; what everyone thinks I should say. So I do. I whisper yes and he pulls me close and twirls me around and I start laughing because after all this is Charlie. Charlie who told me about the fire, Charlie who stole apples off the tree with me, and the boy whose nervous about asking me a question when he already knows the answer I will give. It's not like I can go off and be a teacher like I wanted. Mama and Dad made what they thought of that option perfectly clear and no one else will propose to me 'cause I'm Charlie's girl. So that's it. I'm getting married.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3**_

Monsters do not always look like monsters like they should.

Scary teeth and bulging eyes would be a comfort I think.

Anger doesn't even look like anger. Sometimes it is so calm. He is so calm. Not a wrinkle or a mean word escape his lips while his fist flies and his belt whips against my skin. I miss my bumbling sweaty Charlie. This Charlie doesn't sweat. He doesn't smile or laugh unless it's cruel.

Tonight is our six month anniversary. We are at Billy's father restaurant it's the nicest place in town and Charlie is smiling at me and holding me close. His touches are gentle and his whispers are loving. Mary tells me I'm the luckiest girl in town since I married richest guy in town and the second sweetest guy after her husband.

I have the strangest impulse to take her by the shoulders and drag her into the kitchen and ask her if her husband's sweet is the same as mine. I wonder if we can compare scars and methods. Does he hold her down too? Does he laugh while she cries?

Instead I smile and laugh with her, taking the slice of cake she offers while changing the subject to Joanie's newest baby. Good girls don't talk about what goes on behind closed doors. Good wives smile and entertain their guest. Good marriages require compromise and sacrifice. Nobody likes a whiner. Lessons from mama reverberate through my skull and as always I try and picture Dad doing to Mama what Charlie does to me. Across the room and see her leaning into his touch as he buries his nose in her hair. Is she really leaning into him? Or is he pulling her to make the rouse complete? Will she have bruise marks where his loving touch is right now? Is he whispering that he adores her or she better be a good bitch and keep her mouth shut.

Lies fuel the world. My lies fuel everyone else's. Vicious cycles, unbroken tradition, silent glances. Just make the world go away. I want dizzy dancing and laughter that leaves me gasping for breath.

Tonight I cash in on the light moments with the friends I cancel on too much. I touch them and imagine I am healing them like one good honest touch can make up for a million mean and nasty ones. I compliment everything, even the things I don't mean as if one nice word takes away from the horrible curses muttered throughout the day. I have become a liar but I can't regret it.

Dr. Cullen didn't deserve my spite. I was just a silly girl who believed in fairytales. Too bad I'm all grown up and know that nightmares occur while you're awake and fairytales are only true while you're asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

_**This chapter contains sensitive subject matter. Please DM before reading if you are nervous. **_

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Chapter 4

That letter is my ticket to paradise. Charlie has been called to serve in this war; The Great American War, which is really only just another lie every war is considered a great war when we enter into it. But I don't care I will kiss that stupid little paper all night. It's taking all my trouble away and leaving heaven behind. He's out getting drunk and I can't even work up the will to care. I will even try to be silent as he beats me tonight, because tomorrow he leaves maybe for good. So many casualties and I can only pray that he will be one.

I think this makes me a horrible person but I will gladly do my penance tonight. For a sweet long while I will be alone in a silent peace. Time to heal, time enough for the bruises to fade and maybe even time enough to remember what it feels like to not be in constant pain. I can dance in the morning and sing as I do my chores. Cook what I like and fall asleep on my own without being driven to exhaustion by the release of my tears.

Tonight is a night for celebrating and letting my imagination run wild. As soon as the letter was in my hands I started dreaming up my secret dreams. The things that get me through the worst moments, when I need that extra push to remember why I want to keep living. Normally it's something simple, a baby, a friend's smile, me and Charlie racing down the hill as kids, my mama singing, maybe even sneaking away sometime and teaching like I always wanted to do anyway. But tonight, I go a little crazy.

I see that doctor I saw when I broke my leg. The doctor smiles at me the way he first did, that small touch with that look of passion in his eyes except this time I am me and not sixteen year old me and I don't sass him. I still look down embarrassed, but I let his fingers trail up my thigh as my own fingertips make their way up his white coat. His sharp intake of breath would give me enough courage to look up. We'd play the game, taking more daring touches until someone walks by reminding us there is only so much time and then I'd push at him but he'd push me back against the table as his lips tease min-

"Look at you like a bitch in heat. Couldn't wait for me to get home huh?" Charlie stumbles in the house; his words are slurred but the meaning is clear enough. My dress has risen to my mid thigh, my eyes are lidded and my breathing is heavy. His eyes devour me, before he stumbles forward and grabs me. I push him away.

It's probably why I have so many bruises; I can never accept what I know he will do. I can never sit back and take it like I know I should. So I kick, and scratch and shoot those hateful names back in his face until the pain makes me lose my words and tears blur my vision. I still fight. I still don't give in. After it's over my tears are silent and I wish I have the courage to hit him over the head with a damn lamp and tell people he knocked it over in his drunken state.

Please let some German shoot him dead.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5**_

The sky has never been so blue. The earth has never been so rich; my life has never been this prosperous before. I feel my heart beating in my chest and I am not counting down the minutes till it becomes too weary to continue pushing blood through my veins. Right now everything in my life is exactly the way it should be.

My days are filled to the brim. Emily and Sarah tried to get me to join their cause. For weeks they would give me pamphlets and lecture me about the evils of alcohol and how it turns our men into monsters. I told them I've already seen men be monsters without a lick of spirits and that I'm no one to tell anyone how to live their life. I don't even have a say in how I live mine.

Mama and Dad are always over inspecting how I am living. Telling me what I ought to do, who I should be seen with, associates to move up in this silly little world. Everyone comes over asking for favors, help with this petition, support our troops with this cause, sometimes I imagine screaming out that I want the Germans to shoot my husband dead just to see their reactions.

The more everyone gets carried away with this war the more I question why it began. It seems so silly fighting for something we can't see. Risking thousands of people's lives every day and we still don't know why. So I ignore them as best I can while still trying to appease them. I walk outside and feel the warm earth beneath my feet, feel the warm sun on my skin. I help the mothers whose husbands are away and rock them to sleep. Slowly I throw away all the memories of Charlie in my house I paint the house and change the furniture. There are some things I can't throw away, ancient heirlooms too beautiful to give to a stranger, clothes and the reminders of a childhood when I once loved him.

Sometimes I think I might go to hell. Every day since he left I have spent all winter taking the time to erase him out of my life. Every day I run into so many women who miss their husband, good men who take care of them and they are genuinely worried for their welfare. Every night I fall asleep not thinking of my husband but instead a man with golden eyes and flawless alabaster sin who I only met once in my life. By now I have concocted an entire history for the who lives inside my head; I have added so many levels to those eyes that I now imagine seeing hints of sadness and loneliness there that only I can alleviate. Still even hell doesn't stop me from imagining his voice next to my ear wishing me a good night's rest before sleep carries me off to another beautiful free day.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Hope is just another 4 letter word.

Today is November 11th the fighting has officially ended. Music and dancing is everywhere, children are running around waving their flags and wives are already preparing for their husbands safe delivery home. It's a cruel joke of fate to end the war so soon. I want more time, more time to discover hidden talents, more time to enjoy the easy smiles between the wives, children and myself.

So I hide in the house and lock myself away. Away from happiness and hope; I have no hope now. Away from answered prayers; mine were just rejected. My tears flow fast and hard and I wish I could be graceful but I just can't do anything but let it all flow out.

Hours later I look at my reflection in the mirror. It takes everything in me to not throw my fist against the glass and break it apart and mar my skin. Maybe if I wasn't so pretty he wouldn't want me. Maybe death can save me.

If God is good and god is just then he won't blame me for living my life like this. He will forgive me and let me rest in peace. Or maybe he will scoff at me and tell me so many other people are suffering and I should be a proper wife and greet her husband like a good wife should after he has seen the horror of war.

For some reason god sounds like my mother.

But hope grows in my chest at those words. Maybe he has grown up. Maybe seeing death and true evil will awaken his compassion. Maybe war has made a man out of him. Maybe Charlie will come back to me as the sticky boy I remember, the boy I loved.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7-

"Don't worry I'm sure Charlie will be home soon." Evan tells me.

"Yeah you know him, always has to make the dramatic entrance." Bobby slaps Evan on the back as the two laugh it off. Jenny and Em look at me and smile pityingly almost to say 'we're sorry we have our husband's back home safe and yours is still out there'. If only they knew I am sad because I know he will be here soon. Everyday more men in uniforms come home to claim their wives and lock the bedroom door shut for a week. Soon my husband will be home and the freedom I have enjoyed these last few months will only exist inside that little place in my heart that fights against him when he wants more; which just happens to be the same little piece of myself that doesn't listen to my mother's voice inside my head.

"Well we are not here about to talk about Charlie." I smile then raise a glass to the boys "To you two and your safe return home." We drink and I wish that I was rebellious enough to have ordered the brandy. I love the second the liquor is down my throat and I can feel the burn and know that soon enough the lovely fuzziness would take a hold of me. Instead the fizzy pop slides down my throat in all the syrupy sweetness that is familiar rather than refreshing. The toasts begin and the crowd celebrates bravery and sacrifice, honor and virtue. Sarah cuts in with her quick reminder of the need for tolerance among our boys. I survive the rounds, smile and tip my glass back at the end of every speech.

It would be rude not to.

At the end of everyone blowing smoke up everyone else's asses the local boys strike up some music and we all make our way to the dance floor. My feet tap, my body sways, and I close my eyes picturing this same scene in another universe where a man with honey eyes and soft hands looks over at me and says-

"Care to dance?" Only for the first time my head has it all wrong and his voice isn't the right voice. His voice isn't one of sweet memories and daytime fantasies. No the voice inside my head is one of monsters and torture and cruel wicked laughter.

"Esme?" The doctor calls to me again .

"You have the wrong voice." I tell him, but the vision is gone. I squeeze my eyes shut as I hear deep laughter and feel a cold hand on my arm.

"Charlie" a voice calls out and is quickly echoed by so many people that they overshadow the music. Soon people are pressed against me as they wait for him to notice them and it hits me that he is really here. Standing next to me. Charlie is home.

My eyes open without my permission and take in this man who I prayed with all my heart to be shot dead. He looks the same, except he is smiling; the hugging and chatting up everyone completely ignorant of my existence is routine. Only the atmosphere is different, lighter somehow and there is something in his eyes that make me think it will all be okay.

"Esme." He whispers and wraps me up inside of him. He smells like soap and cigars, his heart is racing and his laughter kind of vibrates in his chest tickling my cheek. He pulls back a little and tucks a fly away hair behind my ear. He's still smiling but his eyes are serious as they stare straight into mine. I know he's searching for something, and I wonder if we are searching for the same thing. I want to not see the person I married and pretend that this is my best friend all grown up coming home to me.

I want a happily ever after, even though I know it doesn't exist.

Despite all my looking I don't see anything in those deep dark eyes, I just see color and my own reflection; but then again I really don't know what to look for. They are only eyes after all and not a crystal ball. Maybe seeing my own reflection is telling me that I need to trust myself. Or maybe, I am just seeing him seeing me, and I kind of look pretty in his eyes. Maybe it will stay that way.

His eyes dart to my lips as if to ask for permission but before I get the chance to give my okay his lips are on mine; soft, gentle, teasing. Whoops of delight crowd around us and Charlie pulls away from me and I blush thanking the lord that mama got a head cold tonight and stayed home.

"Sorry men but I think I need to have a few moments with my wife."Charlie announces to the room and makes a dramatic bow as I hide myself against his chest. Before I know it his hands are under my legs and he is carrying me out of the restaurant the same way he carried me into our home after saying I do. A fresh start and a new beginning. I can only hope that history doesn't repeat itself.


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8:_

"Come here." His voice is scratchy and he still has deep creases from the pillow. I am sitting across the room. The moonlight streams in through the curtain, he is almost adorable right now. When he took me home last week from the diner I thought that maybe somehow he changed. He seemed sincere and I can't help but hope for the best. I mean I am stuck with him anyway might as well try to be positive. But I should know by now that leopards don't change their spots, and my husband will always have a nasty temper.

I never sleep next to him anymore. I wait until he leaves for work to catch a few hours of sleep before I begin my daily routine. I think I am going mad. On the good nights I go into the other room and read a book, or knit, lighting every light in the house to pretend that it is still daylight and I am all alone. On the bad nights, which are becoming more frequent, I just sit here watching him. Sometimes I imagine doing what I prayed some German soldier would do. Sometimes I pretend it is another body in my bed, a bed in a house filled with warmth and love. A bed that contains a doctor with a halo of blonde hair, a house that I clean to prepare for children running around to terrorize me…

"Come here baby," he says again "it has to be cold out there." He is awake now and reaching for me. His body stretches, showing off muscles he acquired during the war. Muscles that make him hit harder. Muscles that make my friends tell me how lucky I am to have such a man.

"I couldn't sleep." I confess. He takes my hand in his, they are warm.

"Bad dream?"

More like bad life.

"No, I didn't dream at all. I think it's the storms, there's always something in the air." He smirks a little and his hand is no longer content holding mine, now it strokes and fondles.  
"I can think of something to tire you out." His words are soft, his mouth works its way along my skin, and my body betrays me. One day I long to be able to control my physical response to him. Before he wouldn't ask my permission, before he would take, before I could hate him. Now he is evil. Now he wants me to enjoy it.

"Esme, Esme baby," he whispers against my skin, "You know how sorry I am don't you. You make me so mad sometimes, I just can't help myself. I love you so much." He continues as he kisses each one of the bruises he gifted me with earlier. He worships me at night. I can't disconnect with kisses that make me gasp, and touches that make me moan. All I can do is hate myself. I hate him, I curse him but I kiss him back. My body invites him in; the only signs of resistance are the silent tears that fall down my cheeks.


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9:_

Ever since I married Charlie I am more aware of myself now. I know every inch of my body. Aware of pain, pleasure, bruises, scars. Which is why I know something is wrong. I wake up in the morning with my chest burning. Every part of my body sore. I went to the doctor because of my insomnia as he calls it, he gave me pills which I now feed to Charlie before bed. I can't handle the pain, the intercourse, it is too much. My nerves are frayed, little things make me cry, big things make me scream. I lost my temper with mama today when she kept repeating simple instructions to me. My mind just wouldn't process them.

Something is wrong and I don't know what to do. I feel like an alien in my own skin. I had the strangest urge to cut off all my hair when I was looking in the mirror the other day. I was ugly. I was bruised and red and tear faced. Everything about me was all wrong, and for the first time in a long time I thought that maybe Charlie is right, maybe there is something about me that is not worth loving.

I punched the mirror.

I cleaned it up of course. For a few seconds I held it over my wrist. I could see the blood pouring out of my veins taking out all the evil, horrible toxins. But I am weak. I couldn't push down, instead I threw it against the wall and watched it shatter. Cleaning the mess feels normal. It feels good. I clean the tub, sweep the floor and polish the furniture.

The house is too clean.

I wish I was messier, then it would take me longer to clean. The sun is still high in the sky and being no longer active is making me nervous. I need to destroy something.

I walk out back. Looking for something anything to break apart. I glance at the flowerbeds but I can't do that, they are my joy, something I can create that is alive and good and beautiful. There is grass and then I spot it. Lying next to the cellar doors; the ax. The weight of it feels good in my hands. It is heavy, and powerful, even pulling it across the yard makes me feel strong. I walk further back, behind the shed, behind the trees to wear the grass grows a bit higher. No one can see me back here.

The sound of the axe hitting the tree is reassuring. It is consistent and every time the metal hits wood and the song rings out in the forest I feel this tightening in my chest. Then I throw my weight behind the axe as it strikes the wood, again and again, until my arms are burning and shaking.

I keep going until the axe finally falls from my hand and I fall down next to it. Maybe the world will just forget about me. One can only hope.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Chapter 10:**_

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I stand over the sink in Mary's bathroom, tears in my eyes with one hand pressed against my stomach, the only thought on my mind is, this can't really be happening.

It started out small. Well actually that is a lie. I think maybe I knew from the very beginning, I just didn't want to believe it. I actually tried to convince myself that I was physically sick from being in the same room as him. I didn't want to think that my body could be so receptive of his. I wanted there to be a god out there somewhere that would realize the true evil of Charlie and not allow his body to pro-create. I am carrying a baby inside me. A baby from a man that is all sorts of horrible, every type of wrong imaginable.

On Sundays the preacher stands up there and tells us all that babies are god's gift. He looks out from his podium at all of these women who are round with their husband's unborn children, and smiles and talks about the miracle of life. I was always glad that I had escaped that life. I didn't even want to be married; mama and dad made the decision for me, and now here I am trapped in this house filled with pain and tears. How am I supposed to bring a baby into this world? How am I suppose to tell it about all the goodness in this world when I forget every day?

But really all I can think about is how can I grow a life inside of me when every day I fantasize about taking my own life. I picture taking a few pills, or slicing my wrists. I picture the pain, the exquisite beautiful pain that would come with knowing it is all almost over. About a month ago I was so close; maybe this baby inside me stopped me from going through it. I didn't even know I was pregnant but maybe some part of me did, maybe god was watching out for me and decided I couldn't let this child die. Maybe he is meant for great things. Or maybe I am just a coward.

But now it's been two months without my monthly passing. Eight weeks that some virus is growing inside of me, feeding off of me without its permission. I don't want to be responsible for another person's life. I am not responsible enough for mine. If I was ready to have a kid, I would be ready to stand up for myself against Charlie. I would be able to run away or smack him back.

I come out of the bathroom, and Mary is smiling at me, hands fast away knitting a blanket for her child. I walk over to her and she presses my hand against her belly. "Oh Esme, can you believe it? I'm having a baby; I'm going to be a mama." I am used to this. Mary constantly has me feeling her stomach. The baby kicks and she complains but all around her, there is this aura of content. She is at peace with whatever decision she has made. Sometimes I catch her husband looking at her from the corner of his eye. He just stands there and watches her and I think I should look away but I can't. I like being here with them. I like being surrounded by love.

Sometimes he stands right in front of the window when the sun is setting and the light streams in from behind him making his light brown hair, look almost like a blonde halo and I can't catch my breath. He haunts me; I think he will for my entire life. A half hour in his presence has tainted me for my entire life. When Mary's husband stands in front of that window and looks at her like he does, I imagine it is my own doctor looking at me. During those brief glimpses I feel like my life could be like Mary's. For a second everything that is cloudy and unsure comes into focus, but the sun always goes back behind the clouds and I always go home to Charlie.

Every once in a while I think that maybe I made up Dr. Cullen, but I quickly convince myself that it was real. To think otherwise is just too damn depressing.

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_Apologies for the late update. Thanks for sticking with me._


	11. Chapter 11

_**Chapter 11 **_

He's drunk again. I can hear him and his friends singing and laughing as he exits their door. There are some exclamations, then loud laughter, I can see him in my minds eye, stumbling about and making a quick save. My stomach is rolling with the thought of what I need to do, but before my mind can re-imagine his reactions he walks through the door. His eyes are glassy and his smile is wide.

Esme," He shouts, tripping over the chair as he makes his way to me. He pulls me close against him and I can feel _him_. "Do you know how much I missed you? I miss you all the time." He thrusts his hips against me. "All day long I think of you, sitting here all alone. With your pretty hair, and soft sweet skin. You know I love you right? You know how much I love you, don't you?" His talks into my neck, his lips vibrating against my skin while his hand kneads my breast.

'I know Charlie. I know." I smooth his hair down. "How about we get some dinner in you. Sober you up a bit?" I whisper.

"I don't want to eat anything but you." His hands are adding more pressure now and his teeth scratch my skin, and suddenly the previous rolling in my stomach is urgent cramping and I need him away from me.

"Charlie I need to-" I start, and he steps away thankfully as I run to the sink and spill the contents of my dinner into the porcelain basin.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He asks, its the third time I have thrown up dinner in two weeks. "You better not get me sick."

"I'm not sick Charlie." I say as I brush my teeth. Our eyes meet in the mirror, "I'm pregnant."

His face is kind of red. Like beets, or an apple right before it falls off the tree. I hold my breath waiting for the inevitable. He is going to hit me. I know it, I know it deep down in my aching bones, but even though I brace for it. Even though I can already feel the sting from the smack he will deliver it never comes. He just stands there looking at me and then he moves. I close my eyes, but instead of pain, I feel him swinging me around, his body pressed up against mine. I quickly peek at him and there on his face is a smile from ear to ear. I didn't even know it was possible for him to smile like that.

_He wants this baby_.

"Baby", he says to me. "A baby. Esme can you believe it I am going to be a daddy." His warm, hot, revolting liquor scented breath is on my cheek, my neck, my chest. He presses feather light kisses everywhere. _Why couldn't you have done this the first time? Why couldn't you have worshipped me then? Why can't you just love me, without the pain, without the bruises?_

He fumbles with the buttons on my dress. Lips, hands, breath everywhere. Trapping me, caging me, it's too tight, he is too close, I am too big. I need him away, away, away, "AWAY", I scream and push against his chest. He falls back against the way and we kind of just breathe at each other. I have never been able to that before. I have never been able to stop him.

It feels good. It feels _powerful_.

Until his face changes and the smooth faced excited boy fades away to the angry man.

What do you think you are doing Esme? You think you can push me away. You think you can deny me? He asks, spit spewing from his mouth, his hands are stripping his belt from his trousers.

"I…" I don't know what to say, and I shouldn't fight back. I shouldn't fight back because it always makes it worse but I am a stupid child and I throw the chair at him. His eyes are blazing and thank god looks can't kill because that is what would happen to me right now. If he touches me, it won't be a bruise, it will be broken bones, bloody cuts, maybe even worse. So I run. I throw the door open and run out of the house, barefoot and barely dressed.

The lawn is frost covered and it stings my feet. I can see the cool puffs of air as I breathe, but I can't stop. The wind pushes me forward, a silent ally and maybe it is god finally looking out for me. Maybe he has mercy for the unborn, or maybe I am just becoming delusional.

I don't stop until Charlie is no longer behind me though I doubt he has given up, it will just be that much worse when I have to face him tomorrow. My footsteps slow as I approach the house and maybe mama is asleep and daddy will let me in without asking questions. I raise my eyes to the night sky praying that the god that sent that gust of wind behind me let my mama have mercy on me and not send me back to Charlie tonight. I will figure the rest out tomorrow.


	12. Chapter 12

**_Chapter 12_**

I am safe. Everything around me is warm, and wherever I am smells like honeysuckles. I hear soft sweet singing in the background, and I can almost feel my mother's warm embrace around me, singing me to sleep. I think I might be in heaven. I know I'm not. But I keep my eyes shut real tight for a second just to keep the illusion there and even as I try and hold tight to that feeling, I feel my muscles aching and my stomach churning.

"What the devil are you doing here?" Mama's voice, not soft and sweet, but harsh and full of surprise screeches in my ear as I feel her pushing at me.

"Daddy let me in." I mumble, and turn away desperate to recapture the peace of a few moments before.

"Why would he do that?"

I turn over and look at mama. She's just as pretty as she always was. Break of dawn and here she is cleaning the house, fully done-up, hair pinned up and all painted up. It's easy to see why daddy loves her, why I always wanted to be just like her, until she opens her mouth of course.

"You belong with your husband. Charlie is probably worried sick about you. Now get dressed and go back home." She shoos me out of bed and starts pulling at the sheets to make it nice and neat. A place for everything and everything in its place.

"Mama, Charlie hits me." There is the slightest pause, before she continues pulling the blanket taut across the bed.

"Mama it's not just once. It's all the time, and not only with his hands. Sometimes he uses a belt. Sometimes he punches me. Sometimes if he's really mad he likes to throw things at me. Look." I pull up my skirt and I know that if she would only look at me she would see all the colors on my body, the angry raw bruises, the faded purple ones, and the almost forgotten yellow tints of skin. My body looks like a spoiled watercolor, it's a work of art, it's a testament to pain and suffering and evil and she won't even look at me.

"Esme, he doesn't-"

"Don't tell me he doesn't mean it Mama. Don't tell me he is sorry. Don't tell me he was drunk." I let go of the hem of my dress, and it falls back into place. "Mama, I can't go back to him, he got so mad last night. He will kill me."

"Don't be stupid Esme." Her voice is sharp and she finally lifts her head to look at me. Her eyes soften for a second and she sits on the bed she just made motioning for me to come over to her. "He loves you. He might lose his temper when he drinks but he is still Charlie, the little boy you have known all your life. You love him; remember the two of you couldn't stay apart when you were younger. When the preacher married you he said for better, and for worse, and right now is just a rough patch. You need to have faith and go back to your husband where you belong."

I hold her eyes for a second. Everything in me wants to tell her about her grandbaby, I want to tell her how scared I am, how I don't think that the boy I married is inside the man anymore but there's something in her eyes that make me wonder if she would even listen to me. Maybe she has faded away too. Maybe that is what life does to you. It takes and it takes and it takes until there isn't anything else left to take and it leaves you empty just going through the motions. What would mama do if she didn't pin up her hair and paint her face and clean the whole house? Will I one day be her? Will I one day resign myself to things being the way they are? Will I forget what I am feeling now?

My hand rubs my belly and something inside of me shifts, sharpening my future into focus. The first thing I need to do is get far away from Mama, Daddy and Charlie. I don't want my baby to be born into a world without any hope. It deserves a fighting chance at the very least, and I will try my hardest to give it to it.


	13. Chapter 13

**_Chapter 13_**

Mama walks me home. She says it is for a friendly visit, but I know it's because she is going to make sure I apologize to Charlie. Just thinking of saying the words "I'm Sorry" to Charlie makes the bile rise up in my throat. I'm not sorry and I never will be. Running away that night, pushing him away was the first act of independence I can remember having in a long time. It's like I finally broke to the surface and mama is trying to make me drown again.

The whole walk to my house is quiet and somber, and even though I hate the fact that she is coming I keep looking over my shoulder to make sure she is behind me. Charlie wouldn't dare touch me with her there, and even though his rage would probably be worse when she leaves I could use the time to work out a way to escape. I know now that there is no way I can stay here anymore. When we reach the front door my stomach flips and me chest clenches.

"Everything okay Esme?" Mama asks me.

"Course Mama." I take a breath and open the door. The relief I feel when no one comes charging at me is indescribable.

"Well aren't you going to go in?"

I laugh and usher her into my home. I put on some water for tea, as she walks around inspecting everything. I can almost hear the narrative inside her mind, making lists to remind herself to show me the proper way to clean. Asking herself where she went wrong teaching me when I was younger, and why she ever let me be so headstrong to run outside with Charlie and the other kids all day rather than learning discipline and chores. And just for a second I can see myself the way I once was, I can see why she thinks me and Charlie would be okay one day. We were like one person when we were younger. We never got along but we were always together. He pushed me and I pushed right back. He dared me to climb a tree, and I dared him to go tip Mr. Whiltshire's cow. The only problem was that we weren't equals anymore and now I couldn't push him back, nature made us unequal, he was just stronger and there was nothing I could do about that.

The water whistles, I make tea for Mama and me. She attempts small talk but we ran out of things to say to each other on the walk over here and we shouldn't pretend to be friends. I know she doesn't get me and I'm not sure I can ever forgive her for not letting me leave town when I wanted to, and trapping me in this world. Still, the time passes tensely. Eventually she becomes antsy, probably imagining all the items on her list she has not been able to get to yet.

"Mama you probably have a million things to do before Daddy gets home. I'll be sure I tell Charlie you stopped by." She looks unsure "Why don't we all go out to dinner on Sunday after church?" Her need to watch over me finally gives way satisfied with knowing that she will see us together and happy on Sunday, Charlie and I are always happy in public. We walk to the door in silence and she gives me a weird awkward nod, how did I not realize things had become so weird between us?

"Your Daddy will be around later to finalize plans for Sunday."

"Okay Mama." I don't add that I won't be here later. That I plan on running away as soon as she is safely back inside her home. That she will most likely never see me again. She's a few steps to the gate when it dawns on me that this will be the last time I ever see her. And before I can consciously make a decision my feet are running to her and my arms circle her to give her a real hug.

"I love you Mama. I really do." I whisper in her ear, my face presses against her soft pretty hair. Before she can ask or tell me she loves me too I am already running back home.


	14. Chapter 14

**_Chapter 14_**

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" He asks me. He's a good guy; he didn't ask me any questions this whole trip. Instead he laughed and told me stories about him and his wife. He really loves her, the whole time he laughed at silly things she did, but his face was so much more than that, I don't even know how I would describe it. The best I can do is say that his eyes light up I suppose. He really loves her.

I reach up and lay my hand on his beard, it's scratchy, and it makes me smile, "Thank you for taking me this far." I say and kiss his cheek.

"Not a problem Ma'am. Couldn't let a classy lady like yourself hit the road all alone. There's a lot of not too nice people out there willing to take advantage of a pretty young girl like yourself." He tips his hat at me, and opens the door giving me his hand. "Are you sure you don't want me to drive you up to her door?"

"I'm sure. I don't want to wake up the whole house. Thank you once again." I reach into my bag, and pull out my wallet, complete with our entire savings account to reward this man some way. I pull out some money but he pushes it away immediately. I try once more. "Please, I really don't know how I would have gotten here so fast without you." I ask once more. It feels good being able to pay my way. Even if it is with stolen money.

"Alright ma'am. Now you take care of yourself and that cousin of yours you understand?" He pulls me into a hug before stepping back into his truck. "I hope fate brings us together again one day Miss Esme, I have a feeling my wife would love you."

"I hope so too. Look me up next time you're in Milwaukee." I call out as he starts the engine. I stand there in the streets for a second watching his truck make its way down the long dirt road as I try to understand the weird twist and turns my life has taken in these short few years. That stranger was kinder and more thoughtful to me than anyone I had known in a long time. The last time was probably before I was married.

My mind conjures him from the past. He was kind to me. He even treated me like an adult, but I didn't really see it then. All I saw were his eyes which were dark, they made me want, and need before I even knew what I wanted or needed. Why couldn't the people who supposedly love me be that kind, why is it that they were the cruelest ones? My memories take me to the top of the house and now I am standing in front of the door of Millie's. I haven't actually seen her since I was a kid, and for some reason our letters stopped sometime after I was married. I am crazy. I am a ridiculous woman, showing up at this person's house I used to know in the middle of the night asking for shelter. What could she possibly gain from hiding me?

"Stupid, ridiculous, woman." I mutter to myself and turn away.

_You could never leave me. Who would have you? You're just a silly girl, come home already._ Charlie's voice rings in my head. Somehow I muster up some courage and turn right away and knock on that door until someone has to wake up.

The door flies open and Millie stands there evaulating me. "I'm sure you don't remember me. My name is Esm-" Understanding dawns on Millie and she screams "Esme" as she wraps her arms around me. "What are on Earth are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

And heaven help me, because I think I might have finally lost my mind, but her warm greeting and genuine concern have me breaking down in tears.

"Shhh shhh it's all okay." Millie's holds me a little tighter and I bury my head into her shoulder. "Why don't you come inside and tell Millie all about it." I nod, and she leads me into her house that smells like fresh cider and maybe for the first time I know that me and my baby have a chance to make it in this world.


	15. Chapter 15

**_Chapter 15_**

"How about Wilbert?" I call out to Millie who is in the kitchen

I can feel the baby moving. In my stomach it's weird like popcorn popping or something. I wonder if that even makes sense.

"I had a pig named Wilbert?" She screams back.

"Is that a no?" I ask her as she walks back into the room carrying tea and sandwiches for us.

"Well, I don't know, he was a very good pig. Do you want your child named after my pig?" Her face is sincere and we try to hold our expressions but soon we are folded over laughing until tears are coming out of my eyes. Tears come out of my eyes a lot lately. Not always sad tears either. It's nice, the constant release of all these insane emotions. Thankfully the nausea is over completely, Millie's grandma tells me I am home free and should just glow until the little man pops out. She swears I am having a little boy, and I am inclined to believe her, there is something very knowing about those blue eyes of hers.

"How about Wesley? I always like the name Wesley?"

Ech. I stick out my tongue. A very unladylike thing that Mama would never approve of. "What about Earnest, there is something earnest about Earnest no?"

"Please. I beg of you do not name your poor child Earnest?"

"And why not?"

"Well what if he ends up not being very earnest at all? What happens then? All these poor women are in love with him and think he's telling the truth when he is really another lying cheating bastard." Her use of the word bastard so freely still scandalizes me, I must admit, but I envy her it. She screams the word and shoots up spilling the pop on herself, everything about her is alive and free it is almost as if we live in two separate worlds. Unfortunately she does this at the exact second her mother and father walk through the door.

"Mildred." Her mother scorns, before staring at me.

"Sorry. Have a good time with the Erickson's?" Millie asks.

"Yes. They asked about you. Everyone is always asking after you. They are worried about you." Here's the thing about her Mrs. Mills, She is the only person in the world that can put words together to make you feel as big as your thumb and your nose should be pressed against the corner of the room complete with a dunce cap on your head without changing a single inclination of her words at all. Right now, she is definitely using that tone.

"You could have just told them the truth." Somehow Millie seems to be immune to this feeling and keeps hammering on.

"Told them that we had taken in a pregnant runaway? A well married woman who has disgraced our family by leaving he-"

"Enough, Sarah." Mr. Mills shuts her up, and then leads the three of them down the hall. The room quiets down some and all I can hear is the crackling of the wood in the fireplace. My ears strain for more. Sometimes it's really silly the way rules work. Especially what people like the Mills and Mama think of common courtesy. Doesn't it make more sense to talk about someone in front of them, especially when that person, being me, knows that they are arguing about them anyway? Shouldn't I be able to say my piece? It's not like I have much to say, but maybe I can make them understand. All I need is a few moments to gather myself here and then I can take care of myself. Millie got herself a teaching job in the town and she heard about another position a few miles over. Wouldn't it be all sorts of crazy if I ended up doing exactly what I wanted despite all the bumps along the way?

Millie walks back in the room, slamming the door with this look on her face that makes me a little scared of her. She takes a pillow and puts it up to her face; I'm scared for a moment before I hear a wail like I have never heard before. This must have come from the bottom of her toes as it almost shakes the room with the demons she is letting out. Once her lungs finally run out of breath she lets the pillow stay over her face for a second before falling on the floor next to me. Her head falls on my stomach and I play with her hair. My curiosity is itching at me, and I want to ask her a million questions, but the fact that my aunt hasn't come back in here throwing me out on to the stoop by my hair I figure I am safe for a little while. The silence will have to do for now.


End file.
